A Hero In His Own Way
by MorbidlyAwkward
Summary: Set six months after Act III. The media has declared Dr. Horrible old news, so he attempts to get his reputation back. He tries to make his name more memorable, but what happens when he accidentally starts doing good deeds? Please R&R! Just added chapter 9 (er 8?)!
1. Prologue

"Moist, I've done it!" Dr. Horrible exclaimed as he closed the door to the lab.

"Done what?"

"I've finished the Crumble Ray! Now I can finally pull off that robbery!"

"I've forgotten, what exactly does a 'Crumble Ray' do?"

"It's like the name implies. It..._crumbles _things."

Moist shrugged. "Okay. Hey, I got the paper...seems like you're in it."

"Where?" Dr. Horrible snatched the damp newspaper from Moist. The ink was a little runny but he could read the front page. "What, I'm not on the front page _again_?"

"Yeah, sorry, actually turns out you're right here." Moist pointed to a section pages far from the first.

"_Real Estate_. Well that's nice. I'm sure all the future homeowners are trembling in terror." He said sarcastically.

"Well, you did level that building."

"Yeah, an abandoned one," The Doctor pointed a gloved finger at the article. "And look, they didn't even spell my name right,"

Moist tried to suppress a laugh. "Dr..._Whore_?"


	2. Chapter 1

"That'll be $56.34," Said the young FoodCo employee. A woman on the other side of the counter pulled out a large sack of a handbag.

"Uhh, do you mind if I write you a ch-" At that moment, the convenience store's front wall collapsed, sending clouds of dust everywhere. People gasped in terror while others just stared in confusion at what had just happened. Dr. Horrible waited for it all to clear before he stepped in. He laughed maniacally and pointed the Crumble Ray at the cashier closest to him.

"Did someone call for a doctor? Because Dr. Horrible is-"

"No," replied the cashier.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. Nobody called for a doctor."

"Excuse me, but do you know who I am? I'm Dr. Horr-"

"Dr. Whore? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's Dr. Horr_ible_!" He moved to press the Crumble Ray against the cashier's forehead, "and I'm robbing this store now!"

"Okay, okay! Show a little respect, dude."

That one word was enough to make Dr. Horrible turn on his monologue mode and vociferate quite loudly into the cashier's face.

"_Respect_? RESPECT? All you ever get is respect! But not me, _no_, because I've only been the evilest supervillain around here and all I get is an article in the real estate section! I mean, _at least_ you could spell my name right! Apparently there's no respect for any hardworking villain out there, because you how hard we work? To make our plans foolproof, spend hours and hours of meticulous brainstorming, only to be upstaged by some minimum wage idiots like you?"

As he continued his endeavored argument, the cashier quickly filled the sack Dr. Horrible had brought. Having finished robbing the place, the Doctor started backing out of the store, still fulminating about how none of the bad guys get any respect. And then, at the climax of his monologue, Dr. Horrible thrust his arms out as an exaggerated ending. A word formed on his lips but didn't quite get finished as a man came sprinting from around the street corner. The man's head was turned in the opposite direction, so he was fully surprised when Dr. Horrible's right arm clotheslined him. The man flipped and his back collided with the pavement, knocking the breath right out of him.

"What the..." Dr. Horrible broke character to investigate the small act of evil he'd just enacted. But right as he began to rant at the man for ruining his monologue, another person came round the corner, albeit much slower.

A smallish looking old lady was now facing the Doctor. Instead of fleeing, she picked up a minuscule alligator-leather purse that the clotheslined man had been holding. The old woman patted Dr. Horrible on the arm.

"My hero! Oh, thank you!" She exclaimed, and before he could stop her, gave the Doctor a big-sloppy-grandma-kiss on the cheek.


	3. Chapter 2

"So I assume everything went well with the robbing of the convenience store, Dr. Horrible?" Fake Thomas Jefferson folded his hands neatly on the table. All eyes were on the red clad Doctor for a response. Another bimonthly E.L.E meeting, with all the villains in the League present, with the exception of Dead Bowie, who was busy rigging a highway overpass with explosives.

"Umm, define..._well_..." He avoided all their gazes, especially the somber expression of Bad Horse.

"_Well_, as in you completed your mission with no unforeseen mistakes and/or mishaps." Snakebite hissed, finally taking her feet of the table.

Dr. Horrible spoke cautiously. "I completed my mission...but I...I kinda..._accidentally_..."

"Out with it, man!" There was a solid thump as Fake Thomas Jefferson's fist met the table.

"I stopped a guy who was mugging an old woman. Then she got her purse back and thanked me." The red Doctor's leather chair squeaked as he sunk into it. Every League member was in a tizzy. They all simultaneously began interrogating him, their voices one angry rumble. As the noise grew and grew, Dr. Horrible sank lower and lower into his chair, able to respond to no one.

"QUIET, QUIET! All of you!" The booming neigh of Bad Horse silenced everyone. Dr. Horrible still found it hard to talk to Bad Horse himself, mostly because he was an animal, and animals shouldn't physically speak, but also because his voice could overwhelm anyone's. Bad Horse continued, "Like and other E.L.E. member, I'd like to give Dr. Horrible a chance to speak without interruption," Bad Horse nodded, or what was interpreted as a horse's way of nodding, and faced him. "Go on."

Later that day...

"And so I explained to the League that it had been an accident. Yes, an utterly embarrassing one, but still, I had no intention of doing any sort of good deed... I was let off easy this time.

"So that's good, I guess...

"Anyways, back to emails...this one's from MegaTigerShark773. 'What's hanging Dr. Horseshoe? In case you didn't read today's paper, everyone who was at that FoodCo robbing couldn't seem to remember your name...'"

Dr. Horrible paused, and gave the webcam a sarcastic smile. "Yes, _thanks_, MegaTigerShark, for restating the incredibly obvious. I am very much aware that no one can seem to remember my name. I mean, it's only been, what? Six months since I joined the Evil League of Evil? You'd think a villain would get noticed when he kills a..."

Dr. Horrible's throat became tight. _We're not thinking about her, remember?_ Dr. Horrible mentally told Billy, whom the Doctor hadn't let infect him since...what happened. Billy stared blankly at the camera for a few painfully long moments. After the eternity, Dr. Horrible took control and continued.

"W-when he kills a person.

"...and that is why I plan to get my reputation back! No more tiny convenience store robberies for me, no sir. I'm moving on to bigger and _horrible_-r things! Like my plan to separate the U.S. from all other Americas (and Canada) via humongous earthquakes!

"Which brings me to introduce my new invention-in-progress, my Earthquake Amplifier Beam, or EA Beam for short. Catchy, huh? I haven't gotten all of the kinks out, but hopefully I'll be renaming this country 'Horrible-opolis' by the end of the month."


	4. Chapter 3

****AUTHOR'S NOTE** Please excuse me for the long absence in between story chapters...I've been out of state for the past week and haven't gotten around to writing the rest till now (yay, procrastination!) so enjoy this next part! **END AUTHOR'S NOTE****

"Moist, do you think I'm losing my edge?"

Moist planted a wettish hand on Dr. Horrible's shoulder. "Doc, I'm going to tell you straight up. You aren't really the type to speak to a woman directly in the face."

"No, not _that_ edge," Dr. Horrible switched back to working on his EA Beam. "I mean, my _evil_ edge. My reputation as an accredited villain."

"Well, I'd say you haven't got as much, you know, _media _coverage as some of the other guys do, but remember the Trans-matter Ray? It wasn't in the papers and people still knew about it."

"Yeah, but that's the thing. I'm not a Trans-Matter Ray. I'm Dr. Horrible, and I give prescriptions of _pain_." Dr. Horrible sneered, his fist punching an invisible Captain Hammer. "Sorry, I'm workshopping on catchphrases," he apologized in reaction to seeing Moist's raised eyebrows. "there are others."

"You know what you need, Doc? Fans. Fans that will do anything and everything you say."

"So, minions, basically?"

Moist gestured towards him. "Minions that _adore_ you."

Just as the Doctor was about to ask how they'd be able to ever find anyone like that, there was a knock at the apartment door. Moist and Dr. Horrible quickly exchanged glances and scrambled to close the lab door and make the living room appear as if an evil genius _didn't _inhabit the place. A Bunsen burner was knocked to the floor, catching the carpet on fire. Dr. Horrible frantically stamped out the flames while Moist cracked open the door.

"Can I help you?" Moist was now perspiring much more than usual. At the door were three people, two girls and a guy, all dressed in similar clothing. Moist noted the differences: one girl was wearing a sky blue top, the other a grape-ish purple one, the man wearing a corn yellow t-shirt. Other than that, their dress was the same: jeans, pairs of welding goggles atop their heads, and, strangely enough, a portrait of the Doc himself right smack dab in the center of their shirts. The short girl in the blue spoke up.

"Oh, sorry. We weren't sure if this was the right apartment. I think we have the wrong one..."

"No, no...wait, I think you have the right one..." Moist's head disappeared for a brief moment, but was back as he opened the door wide to reveal Dr. Horrible. The girls shrieked and the man sighed and fainted at the sight of their idol.

Moist motioned towards the trio. "See,_ fans_."


	5. Chapter 4

****AUTHOR'S NOTE** Just a special "thank you" shout out to my new fans (gasp!) for the reviews. And now to the story...**END AUTHOR'S NOTE****

Dr. Horrible found that the back of the taco truck was more cramped than they'd made it sound. The red clad doctor stuck his face through the micro-window that provided a glimpse at the highway from the front seats. For a few longing moments, he gazed at passing cars on the road. _Another normal Monday morning for some people, _he thought, _for me, another mission where I'm demoted to the back seat._

He'd known that with the heist snafu last week, the League would never let him get off easy. A decision had been made that Dr. Horrible, although a somewhat credible villain, needed a little brushing up on his teamwork skills. So they paired him with Dead Bowie and his newbie sidekick to help with the destruction of a highway overpass. The League had even sent him a cheery letter on fancy stationary informing him that if he failed to show up, he would be happily stamped to death by Bad Horse himself.

Dr. Horrible stood to re-fasten the mounted Freeze Ray to keep it from tipping. After a brief intro with the sidekick, he remembered his first impressions of him weren't all that exciting. He seemed very...very _bland. _Especiallycompared to Dead Bowie, who Dr. Horrible would readily admit was quite morbid and creepifying. The kid, who called himself Reflect-Sean, did kind of remind him of Moist. They were similar in that they both had completely useless powers; Reflect-Sean's being the ability to make the entire surface of his skin have a mirror-esque shine. Despite that, Moist was a lot more interesting.

The taco truck made a sudden jerky swerve and Dr. Horrible's stomach was slammed against the one of the flat-top grills, which thankfully wasn't on. A force, not unlike what he was used to, knocked the wind out of him. Growling under his breath, he frustratingly punched the window. As if in response, the truck halted, bumping him around even more. Dead Bowie turned to the back window.

"Everything_ Hunky Dory?" _he asked, pointing at the Freeze Ray.

"Fine," Dr. Horrible muttered, "no thanks to you."

"Watch it, team player."

"Yeah yeah," the red Doctor knelt to free the Freeze Ray from its bonds. He was thankful that at least the Wonderflonium hadn't been bounced.

Set up was fairly simple; Dead Bowie's rig was already set to blow the overpass, which was about fifty yards ahead. The Freeze Ray was placed on an adjacent hill that had a view of all the highway, which was perfect for the job that Dr. Horrible was dreading: taking out police and/or other heroes with Reflect-Sean. Dead Bowie was waiting in the taco truck at the bottom of the hill.

In no time at all, a squad of cop cars raced down the highway, right for the overpass. The whirring sirens blared but somehow it didn't drown out Reflect-Sean's uninterested yawns. Dr. Horrible whipped around and was about to scold the henchman when he heard something. There was some slight static from the walkie talkie as Dead Bowie's voice came on.

"Alright boys, _Let's Dance._"

One of the newest adjustments he'd made to the Freeze Ray was that it was much faster, so it warmed up within seconds. He also made sure it wouldn't choke up after extended use. Taking aim, he set his sights on the squad.

"Three..." he checked his watch, making sure he was on time with Dead Bowie.

_Inhale, _he mentally told himself.

"Two..."

_One..._The _boom _from the overpass blowing up was deafening, making him want to cover his ears. He knew where he was aiming. All he had to was pull the-

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab a beer or somethin-" Reflect-Sean, completely oblivious, waltzed in front of the Freeze Ray the exact second the trigger was pulled. Unconsciously, he tried to defend himself by using his powers. The beam from the ray was discharged in a shiny blue blast, and somehow had enough power to knock the Doctor to the ground.

For a moment, everything was silent...

He waited.

He slowly pushed himself onto his feet. He gasped in horror at what had occurred. Rarely things seemed to surprise Dr. Horrible. The remains of Reflect-Sean that lay in a shattered mess didn't. Neither did the screeching of tires and the sound of Dead Bowie driving away. No, not much surprised him.

Except seeing chunks of the blown up overpass along with passing cars now suspended in midair. He'd frozen them. People ran out of their cars, pointing and cheering at _him._ That same, almost angry embarrassment sickness he felt when he stopped that thief came back again.

"Oh. Balls."

****AUTHOR'S NOTE** Well, there ya go! FYI, all of Dead Bowie's lines in _italics _are names of his hit songs. Hope that wasn't too confusing. **END AUTHOR'S NOTE****


	6. Chapter 5

"****AUTHOR'S NOTE** Oh my gosh guys! Again, thanks for the reviews and favorites! It's been a bit of a busy week and I have therefore have once again neglected my dear fans...School's started up again and homework right now is my priority. But, for now, enjoy this short chapter! **END AUTHOR'S NOTE****

He thought maybe he'd fainted afterwards. He wasn't really sure, he hadn't fainted before, so he had no prior knowledge of how it felt.

All he knew was that he'd woken up back on his apartment couch, still wearing his wrinkled costume. It seemed strangely quiet in the living room, considering since his "fans" found him and wouldn't leave the place. They were gone, and apparently so was Moist. Dr. Horrible took in a whiff of the air. The scent of a fresh brewed cup of coffee must've been what woken him up.

As he stood up, he considered the fact that the whole thing might have just been a very terrible dream. _It did seem a little unbelievable, _he thought to himself. It still didn't explain why he had no recollection of how he ended up on the couch, but a dream would've been better than reality at that point. He made cautious steps towards he kitchen to investigate the delicious smells, which had evolved into a sickly sweet scent. He slipped around the corner quickly, which was apparently not quick enough, because he bumped into one of the groupies who spilled hot coffee right down his precious costume.

"Oh! God! I didn't-sorry-ow..." Dr. Horrible exclaimed as his gloved hands attempted to wipe away the burning sensation.

"No it's okay...are _you _okay? Because, I'm okay...and if you're not, then, I'm not...okay..." She trailed off and her cheeks blushed the shade of his lab coat. She was the girl with the grape-y shirt. Her chestnut hair was wrangled in with a ponytail; she fiddled with the end with one hand as the other accepted the empty mug from Dr. Horrible.

"I'm fine...uh," he tried to remember her name, "...Tracy?"

She blushed even more, if that was even possible. "Stacy, actually."

"Oh, yeah."

"You need help...washing that?" Stacy gestured to his coat.

"No, I got it," he began unbuttoning it while they both sauntered into the kitchen.

Stacy turned to pour herself another mug. "Hey, I forgot to say congratulations."

_Congratulations? Doesn't she know I screwed up? _"For what?"

"You're in the news," she pointed to the paper on the counter and smiled. "Front page and everything."

There he was, a picture of probably his least menacing Dr. Horrible face was staring back at him. Next to it was the overpass, parts of it suspended in air by the Freeze Ray. The paper felt like it needed to be rung out, most likely Moist picked it up, and like last time the ink was runny. But the font was so large it didn't matter and he clearly read the front page.

"_L.A.'s New Hero: Dr. Horrible."_

Stacy poked him on the shoulder. "Oh, and guess what? I made a cake with your face on it to celebrate."

He collapsed on the floor and realized that this was what fainting was like.


	7. Chapter 6

****AUTHORS NOTE** I know what you're thinking, 'why hasn't she finished her chapter until now?' Truth be told, I'm really busy and when I'm not I sometimes spend my free time doing other things. But this next installment is finally done and I've come back from my journey away from this story, my mind refreshed and filled with all sorts of great ways to take this idea. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! **END AUTHORS NOTE****

The door was not sanitary. It was the definition of uncleanliness: graffiti, wads of gum, and something white and sticky smeared on the handle. The germiphobe in him would've wanted to use a napkin or something to wipe it off, but the rest of him ignored as he strode into the laundromat. He kept his laundry basket protectively on his hip; paranoia made him wrap his arms tighter around it. The laundromat was practically empty, but he felt suddenly very afraid of being watched. He quickly dumped his lab coat into one of the nearby washing machines and stuck his change into the slot. He hoped no one was staring at him with curious interest; he never liked when people got curious. Almost out of instinct, he sat up on top of the washing machine and gazed down to realize no one was staring back at him. _Oh yeah, no more laundry buddy. _He mentally kicked himself.

The only other person in the laundromat, who was about five machines away, didn't take any notice of him but obviously didn't have enough clothes to look busy. The other laundry-person was a woman about five foot four and had blond with brunette streaks in her hair. Their eyes met for a brief moment but he hopped off the machine to keep things from getting awkward.

"...did you see this morning's paper? I can't believe it!" A voice blatantly echoed across the building, making him jump. He cocked his head slightly towards the other customer, but her focus was on the television in the corner of the room. A news report.

"Quite unbelievable indeed, Marti," the anchor laughed heartily. "In case you haven't seen today's paper, Dr. Horrible, once a terrible arch enemy of good, rescued civilians yesterday evening when a highway overpass collapsed. He is now being hailed as one of L.A.'s honorable heroes. I'm not sure I could've seen that coming! Do you remember when he was all 'take over the world' and jazz?"

"Oh, yes," Marti's head bobbed on screen. Her plastered smile unveiled her porcelain teeth when she tittered. "This is quite a change for him. He's saved lives because of his act of valor. We'll go now to our reporter on the street with the witnesses who said they saw it all happen." The report cut to the witnesses and Dr. Horrible pulled his hoodie farther down on his face.

"What the hell, man?" The girl across from him kicked her washing machine in a fit of pique. "Can you believe this shit?" With her arms out wide she approached him.

"Huh?" _Playing dumb always works, right? _

"That! That...chowderhead Dr. Horrible! Thinking he can suddenly just come out of the blue, saying, 'Hey, look at me, I'm a big damn hero!' You know, there are hard working, _good_ people out there that do this sort of thing every single day and never get recognized! Like firemen! Or policemen! Or any of the other _real_ superheroes in this city!"

"Uh..." He stepped back.

"Oh, heh, sorry. I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I just needed to get that out."

"Right." His face was locked in an awkward-crooked-nervous smile. "I think maybe he wasn't trying to be a hero, you know? It might have just been something evil that went..._completely..._wrong."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it could've been an accident."

* * *

"An _accident, _Dr. Horrible?" Professor Normal's eyebrows indicated he was humoring him. The stuffy room inside Bad Horse's mansion smelled of mothballs and mold, which threatened to choke the Doctor. He pressed the tips of his fingers together.

"Um, yes. And I can explain-"

"No need to explain, Doctor," Tie Dye stated, "we've all heard the details." She waved a copy of the newspaper in her hands.

"But you're missing an important-"

"Also, what we've heard from Dead Bowie is enough to get you expelled from the League." Fake Thomas Jefferson cut in.

"Uh, I don't think this is very fair."

"Agreed, Doctor," Bad Horse neighed in response, "but your actions cannot go without a punishment. You were let off last time only because the other members of this League believed that this sort of _accident _wouldn't happen again. You were given a warning. This time the E.L.E. has issued you a League Probation until further notice."

Immediately Dr. Horrible stood up. "Wait, what? _League Probation_?"

Bad Horse nodded. "Yes. You will be informed when your probation is over, but until then, you are not to appear in public to represent the E.L.E., which means no criminal acts of _any _kind. You are dismissed, Dr. Horrible."


	8. Chapter 7

****AUTHOR'S NOTE** So, hey guys... I wrote another chapter! Again, let me reenforce the fact that I am in two AP classes currently and have no time, so I was really proud that I managed to write another section (during school too!). Thank you to all those people who have recently favorited or followed this story. Without you guys, I'd probably never have the drive to get this story done! :P **END AUTHOR'S NOTE****

"Had an E.L.E. meeting yesterday. I'm sure you've seen what's happened lately, telling from the number of emails you guys have sent me. Well, turns out everybody there knew about my little hiccup too. They gave me League Probation. _League Probation. _How did this happen? It's not like I was _trying _save all those people! It just...happened. How...why?"

Dr. Horrible slammed his face on the keyboard in a distressed fit. He rubbed his forehead as he got back up.

"Ow...

"So, yeah, probation. Which means I can't appear in public or commit any public acts of horribleness. That could put a damper on the plans for the EA Beam. I can't believe this! The E.L.E. expects me to become a credible villain, and just when a wonderfully evil epiphany strikes me, I get probation.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do now; guess I just have to wait this out. Shoot me an email and give me some suggestions on other ways of passing time besides Tetris."

He reached to flip off the monitor but paused.

"And, yes, I play Tetris. Is that so wrong?"

* * *

"I had to get out of the apartment, Moist. Plus, I can't even take a shower without one of those three 'fans' popping out and scaring the living crap out of me." The Doctor switched hands as he continued his conversation on the phone.

"What are you gonna do?" Moist was apprehensive.

"Well it's not like I'm on a paid vacation. I'm not making any money. And another heist is out of the question. I can't believe I've stooped this low, but, I have to get a job."

"A job? Where you gonna get a job, Doc?"

"Anywhere I can," He turned from facing the bus stop he was at and gazed at the store across the street. It was the FoodCo building he had not long ago crumbled. The walls were still being worked on, but someone had managed to erect the FoodCo sign above the shattered but intact glass doors. Squinting, he had a brilliant but reckless idea. "FoodCo is hiring."

Getting hired was like taking a biology test for him. Too simple. He already knew he would have to necessary skills to work at a grocery store. It wasn't much more than filling bags and smiling occasionally at customers. And when asked questions like "Are you a good team player?" or "Why did you apply for this job?" he grinned and lied through his teeth. Luckily, the manager was an exceptionally ignorant numbskull and didn't appear to notice. He was hired on the spot. The only hurdle he'd have to really jump high for was social interactions with the other employees. Many of the ones he'd already noticed he guessed weren't much older than 16. When walking out, he groaned. _League Probation is only temporary, _he reminded himself, _although staying home and playing Tetris doesn't sound so bad._

But the next morning he appeared at FoodCo, despite his reluctance, to start the first day of living hell.


	9. Chapter 8

****AUTHOR'S NOTE** Wow, I just realized I haven't posted a chapter since Christmas break, which was EXACTLY 2 months ago! I have an upcoming holiday break (President's Week, and I get all week off!) so I will for sure be doing some writing then. For now, enjoy this short but sweet chapter! **END AUTHOR'S NOTE****

"Here's your uniform, uh..." The manager eyed him and looked back at the name tag. "Billy." The manager tossed him a lime green collared shirt.

"Right," He sighed as he realized not even the manager cared to remember his name. In situations like this, he'd always look for a bright side, an advantage to getting the job. Off the top of his his head, there were none.

"Who are you?" A familiar voice made him turn. Behind him was another employee, probably nineteen or so. Despite the fact that his hair was cut short and bright blue, he could plainly tell it was the one kid who had ruined his otherwise successful robbery. Internally, he winced. _Please don't recognize me. _The employee gave him a dull expectant look as he obviously didn't have a clue who he was.

"I'm new here," _Seriously though, how could he not know? _He remembered his monologue and how he had literally been inches away from his face.

"You got the job here?" _An astonishment to his little brain_, he thought.

"Yes."

"But, you're so..._old._"

"I'm twenty-nine... Justin."

"Woah! How do you know my name?"

"Name tag, idiot."

"Oh yeah, huh,"

Another strangely familiar voice from behind made him start. "Don't mind him, he's kind of a jackass."

He turned around to see...nothing. Tilting his head downwards slightly he noticed that the source of the voice was from someone very short. She was blonde with brunette streaks in her hair...

"Hey, I know you! You're that guy I freaked out. At the laundromat."

He shrugged. "Yep, just that guy," He muttered the last part under his breath. "Nobody else..."

"Sorry about that again. Sometimes I get so mad I just wanna strangle something fluffy and innocent, like a koala. You know what I mean?"

"Um..."

She held out her hand. "I'm Danyn. Sounds like the yogurt, but it's spelled differently. Funny thing is I work mostly near the refrigerator isle and all I see is the stuff."

Still unsure of her intentions, he cautiously but cooly accepted her handshake. "Billy,"

"I saw that."

"How-"

"Name tag, idiot."

"Oh," He glanced at her uniform. "You don't have a name tag?"

Danyn shrugged. "Eh, I keep it in my pocket just in case the manager comes around, which is, like, once in a millennia. Plus, I've been around long enough that most people know me anyways."

"Doesn't that take a while?"

"Oh, years," She picked up two brooms and handed one to him, then turned and started sweeping. "I guess I've never thought about how long I wanted to have this job. It pays the bills. That's all I really cared about. Although I do occasionally wish I had my own laundry machine." She paused, turning back around. "You gonna sweep or what?"


End file.
